Letting the Light in
by silverfoxpunk
Summary: Elena confronts Damon with the things he has said to her - things that she was not supposed to remember. It leads to a night neither of them want to forget...  Adult content.
1. Together

**Not sure that I have finished this story yet, so would appreciate your thoughts; let me know if you want more?**

**It kinda takes place after Elena's showdown with Elijah, but its quite AU too. In other words, don't take it too seriously! **

**Hope you enjoy it. **

**Letting the Light in**

"I need to see you."

Damon hung up after a curious call from Elena. He was surprised when her number came up on his phone as a missed call. When he rang her back, he had asked her if she was all right, assuming it would have to be life or death before she would willingly seek him out. For a second, he had had fleeting idea that something may have happened to Stefan and surprisingly that had actually bothered him. When she said she was fine, he was at a genuine loss why she would want to speak to him.

"I need to see you."

How did five little words fill him with so much dread?

"Ok… When?"

"This evening. Do you know the bar off route twelve?" He said he did. "I'll be in the car park. Eight o'clock."

She hung up before he could ask her what the issue was. He popped his phone bag into his pocket and checked his watch. Four thirty. Quite a lot of time to kill. He knew he would be on edge until he got there.

* * *

"Hi." Seemed like an innocent enough greeting, but the way she said it seemed off, definitely off.

She had been stood by her car door when he pulled up. He was bang on time, so was surprised to find her already there. He got out the car.

"You okay?" he asked again, convinced she was in trouble or that he was about to be jumped as part of an elaborate werewolf plan.

He walked over to her.

"You're alone." He said, more a statement of fact than a question.

"Get in the car, Damon." She instructed and walked to the driver's side, letting herself in.

"Okay…" he said, doubtfully, but he did as he was told and got in opposite it her. She started the engine in silence and he looked at her face trying to understand what was going on.

"Where are we going?"

"To your house. You know, the one you never mentioned."

Shit. How on earth could she know about that?

He figured there was nothing he could say to that, so they traveled in silence for a few miles. Here, on the outskirts of Mystic, the houses filtered out and were soon replaced by pine forest which closed in around them. The amber street lights flashed above them in intervals, until eventually they filtered out too.

"You want to take a right ahead." He said. Hey, she knew about the house, so what was the point in letting her shoot right past it? He may as well save himself some time.

She gave him a look that could melt rock, but did as he instructed. They turned into a hidden entrance that in itself lead to a dirt track. After about half a mile up the road, the dirt became gravel. She slowed the car down and swung into the drive, the headlights casting two spotlights over a dark one-story house.

The house was architecturally modern. Its construction was a sympathetic blend of yellow oak timber and tempered glass that suited its forest surroundings. In daylight it was fairly spectacular, but at night the two high arched windows to the front took on the eerie appearance of watchful eyes. Damon had had the house built entirely to his specifications. It had whole walls of the glass, which in daylight meant the house was flooded with light. It was the last thing you'd expect from a vampire and would certainly put anyone off the scent…

* * *

He didn't like this. He was at a total disadvantage in that she seemed to know things that he had kept very secret. He had told nobody about this place, except…. Except his _realtor_, who was supposed to be handling the rental of the house for him so it wouldn't sit empty. She was the only one who even knew it existed.

She was a dead woman walking.

He got out the car and fumbled for keys he rarely used, but she was way ahead of him and pulled a set out of her pocket. Running straight up the steps, she opened the porch and then the main door which opened with a creak. She felt around for a light switch.

"_Please, do come in_." He muttered with irony under his breath, then hopped up the steps behind her.

As he entered the house, he noticed the work he had requested had been completed. It was newly painted, cleaned and aired as per his instructions. Overall the place was looking pretty good. Elena was stood in his living room, gazing around her at his tasteful décor with undisguised admiration.

"Okay." He said. "Care to start at the beginning?"

"My friend from out of town calls me last week and asks me if I know any good realtors, so I recommend my cousin. She calls me and says she has found this amazing place, and would I come with her to check it out, 'cause she's worried that it seems too good to be true. She tells me that the landlord is some guy who has moved into Mystic and so is renting out his countryside place. I say, what's his name? It's a small place, maybe I know him and guess what name she says...?" She fixed him with a stare. "Why have you never mentioned this place Damon? In all the time you have been with us."

"Well, I guess your cousin is fired, or dead, whichever comes soonest." He replied.

"You leave her alone." Elena instructed with all seriousness.

"I suppose that will teach me for using my real name, won't it?" He sighed.

She sat down, but continued to give him her best glare. He ignored that and walked out of the room towards the kitchen. He had a stash of blood hidden there somewhere which he kept in case of emergencies. He was feeling around in a specially made compartment in his fridge, when she walked in behind him and leant against the counter.

"Why do you stay with Stefan when you two just fight? You told him you had nowhere else to go. Damon, why do you do these things?"

"Did you consider that maybe I wanted to bond with baby brother?" He said. She gave him a look that told him exactly what she thought of that idea.

"Look, its no biggie. I just prefer the old house. It's nicer."

"This place seems plenty nice to me."

He actually found a bag of unused fresh coffee in the back of an otherwise empty cupboard and so he put some in a percolator. "I assume you don't mind your coffee black?" He asked and she nodded reluctantly, her face still the picture of unhappiness.

He poured himself a glass of blood. She looked away. She didn't mind him drinking the stuff, but there was something about it being poured that really bothered her.

"Oh do stop pouting;" he said, then added almost cheerfully, "so, do you want the tour or not?"

She shrugged in response and so whilst he let the coffee brew he picked up his glass and lead her through the house.

Despite herself, she enjoyed looking around; each feature he showed her was like getting to know him. The rooms were uncluttered, but occasionally she caught sight of an artifact or two that she suspected other people would assume were fakes. She knew otherwise.

When he reached the master bedroom, she was determined not to blush, but failed. He noticed that and smiled (of course). In the centre of the room was a massive hand-carved bed, with heavy feet and a stunning headboard. It was as wide as it was long and looked extremely inviting. She stepped out of the room quickly and hurried back into the corridor. She managed to get herself turned around a bit and accidentally opened a door they hadn't been through before.

She had opened the door on a small study which was kitted out with a large oak computer desk, sleek MacBook Pro and an expensive looking sound system. However, what dominated the room was the floor to ceiling bookshelves that entirely lined the walls. The only wall which wasn't covered in books was the back one, which again was glass. In front of this nestled a heavy, tan, vintage leather sofa. The surface of the sofa was a web of cracks and its seat sagged in the middle from years of use. It just cried out to be curled up on with a good book. Damon had bought it second-hand from a store in Texas. Because he had fallen in love with it, he had shipped it a ridiculous distance to bring it here. He had even taken the window out to get it inside the room. He liked to think if he concentrated he could sense its entire history; the kids from the big Texan family who had jumped up and down on it, the parties it had seen, the hardy cows who had been herded across the wide open plains which had provided the leather. But it was doubtful that even his vampire senses were that good, maybe he had just let his imagination run away with him. Either way, it was an unequivocal nod to comfort in his otherwise purely stylish home.

Damon walked into the room behind her and turned on a lamp so the room was filled with a dim, cozy glow.

"I see you found my hiding place."

She began to examine the shelves, she couldn't help herself. She'd give anything to dig around on his computer too, but she settled for the books. He left her there and went to retrieve the coffee. She heard the kick of a pilot light somewhere in the house as he put the heating on, which made her assume he noticed her shivering.

When he came back he brought not just the coffee, but also a crocheted patchwork throw (the kind you paid a fortune for in the city these days, but which every proud Mystic mom had in their cupboard). He was acting dangerously close to thoughtful.

He found her sat on the sofa, cradling his worn paperback of Jack Kerouac's _On the Road_. She took both the coffee and the throw from him with thanks. She tried to return the book, but he refused to take it from her.

"Keep it," he said, "I want to know what you make of it."

He sat down next to her and sank into the sofa too. She had to fight the urge to pull her feet up under the throw and curl up.

"Elena, don't tell me we came all the way out here so you could admonish me for owning a house. Why are we really here?"

She popped the book on the arm of the chair and turned to face him, cradling the coffee in her hands.

"Stefan doesn't know where to find you, does he? What is it that you couldn't say in front of him?" He continued.

He was so bloody insightful, it made her furious. She looked into the darkness of her coffee.

"I've had a lot of Stefan's blood recently. A lot of it..." She began. Damon's mind raced ahead, but he couldn't second-guess her. "When Caroline first changed, she said the blood did things to her."

He remembered her saying that.

"It does a lot of things, Elena. What are you getting at?" He shifted in his seat, for the second time this evening he didn't like where this was going.

"She said she remembered things. Things about what you did to her."

"Oh, that. Look, I already said I was sorry about…." She interrupted him.

"No, I'm not talking about Caroline. I'm talking about me." Still he looked confused. She would have to spell it out. "Her memory came back Damon and so has mine. Memories I didn't know about before, they have...revealed themselves…"

He got it now. He closed his eyes and swallowed. She put down her coffee mug on the floor and put her hand on his, her warmth a sharp comparison to his cool skin.

"Damon, what you said to me…. I remember it. All of it. You compelled me, but did you really think it would never come out?"

His mind raced, how could he be so stupid? Stefan's blood would bring back the memories of that night, of course it would.

He was tense. His hands balled into fists, his jaw flexed. She forced him to interlace his cool fingers into her own.

"Damon, I don't know what to say to you," she began, "I didn't know. I didn't realize how you felt. How you feel..?"

He ground his teeth and tried to bear it. Her fingers were so soft against his and the way she looked at him… He either wanted to rip his teeth into her or sweep her off her feet. The jury was out on which.

He let go of her hand and raised his chin defiantly.

"What does it matter? You are his and I am too late. Story of my life."

She was Stefan's, it was true. However, she pushed thoughts of him to the back of her mind, this wasn't actually about him, it was about Damon.

She didn't know where to go from here, but she couldn't – wouldn't – walk away from this. It had to be resolved. A man loved her and loved her so deeply that he would step back and let a 'better man' step in. It made her heart ache to think of it. No man had ever done that for her.

There was another thing too, if she was honest. This misery he was feeling now, she shared it. She loved Stefan with all her heart, but Damon prickled at her like a slow building heat and always had. She had bitten it down, denied it and buried it deep inside her.

It was a miserable stalemate.

* * *

Damon was every kind of confused, why wasn't she leaving right now? She didn't love him, how could she? She loved his brother.

"Why are you still here?" He asked. "You should go back, be with him. I just get in the way. You're right; I'm always under your feet. I'll move out as soon as I can. I'll…"

"Don't. Don't go." Her voice was a cracked whisper. "Please don't leave me. I want you to be near…"

He looked at her, her hands were shaking which she tried to hide, but she couldn't hide her dilated pupils, shallow breathing - her pulse like a freight train. He was wracked with indecision; he wanted her more than anything he had ever experienced before, but he had made a promise to himself that he would not do this either to Stefan, or to her. He wanted no repeat of the Katherine situation.

She looked at him, it was clear how bad he wanted her, but he was unable to act; paralyzed by some kind of promise he had clearly made to himself. But it was not _her_ promise.

Suddenly and without warning, emotion rose up in her. She abandoned herself to her feelings, reached out to him and pushed her lips against his. At first he resisted, but he could not help the way he felt about her and within moments his lips parted allowing her tongue to dart between them.

He felt the sharp tang of her desire. It was hypnotic, intense, overwhelming. Before he knew it, he had pulled her into his arms and her body was on top of his, her breasts against his chest, her legs intertwined with his. It was what he wanted for so long, what he hoped-against-hope for. He wanted to slow this moment down in time and be sure it was real.

He didn't hesitate any longer. He buried a hand in her long silken hair and the other on her back, pulling her as tight into his body as possible, returning her kiss deeply.

His whole body trembled with the need for her and he grew hard against her. When she felt this, it that sent shivers of desire through her body. She had a hand on his chest and she found herself hurrying to slip his buttons open. She yearned for his body; it was as if she was feeding off his feelings for her. He was loosening her clothes with slow and gentle hands, but she couldn't wait and leant back and tore off her own top. With a practiced flick he freed her from her bra and began to kiss her breasts. He took a moment to take her in, but he burned for her so badly he couldn't wait to be inside her. They began ripping off anything that got between their naked bodies - the warm leather sofa easing beneath their bodies.

She realized she had spent so much time trying _not_ to notice how incredibly handsome he was - but if this was to be their moment, then she wanted to look. He was confident and uninhibited and enjoyed her admiring gaze when it lingered over his defined body. He expected her to be shy, but here she was teasing him and making him rock hard.

His tongue flicked from her mouth to her ear lobe, to the nape of her neck. He slipped his fingers between her legs and expertly stroked her there. She cried out, on the edge of climax already. He didn't seem to be able to wait much longer either and putting a strong hand under her back he moved her so he could enter her. She wrapped her lithe legs around him and he pushed deep into her. She let out a cry. He almost lost control as she did. He refused to look in her eyes, afraid that if he did, he would not be able to last.

She began to match his rhythm. He kissed her throat as she rolled her head back, seeing stars on the backs of her eyelids. He felt her contract around him and she ran her hands down his back and onto his buttocks, pulling him in deeper as she came. At that, he could hold no longer and finally he let himself look into her eyes. As they met each other's gaze, they saw their own passion reflected there and a cry came from each of them from somewhere deep inside themselves.

He collapsed, spent. His fingers were entwined in her hair, his head on her shoulder. He listened to her breathe - both of them glistening with afterglow.

They lay like that for a moment, too caught up in the sting of sex to be able to process a single thought. Eventually, he moved off her and she pulled the patchwork throw over them. They seemed to have become one body, cherished by the giving leather of the sofa. Neither of them spoke. He stroked her hair, in slow rhythmic motions and she held tight to him.

* * *

Where to go from here? He felt angry at himself; the sex had been too urgent, too needful. He had given himself away, his desperate need for her.

Feeling exhausted and perhaps also avoiding dealing with what had just happened, Elena's body shut down and she fell asleep curled tight into his body, her fingers still stroking his chest. When she woke mere minutes later, he was looking down at her, his eyes full of emotion.

"Do you love me?" He asked her and she nodded slowly.

He sighed at that, closing his eyes for a moment. God, what a mess they were in.

"Elena…" he began, a note of gravity to his voice she had never heard before.

She reached up and pulled him down to her lips. She knew it was wrong, but she wanted to distract him. She didn't want to think about consequences, the rights and wrongs of what they were doing, she just wanted to be with him in the here and now. She just needed a little more time. That glass wall was keeping out a world she didn't want to face, a world that kept the company of the creatures who dwelt in dark forest depths.

He responded as she expected to her kiss. His tongue probed hers with happiness. She was surprised at his gentleness; he was a different person to the one she had thought she had known. This Damon had so many sides to his personality, so many depths.

Once again she could feel him quivering sharply into readiness. He rolled her on top of him and she let her legs slip either side of his body, his penis pressed against her stomach. She reached her hands down to it and began to stroke his length; he threw his head back and groaned, his whole body shuddered in response. She wriggled down his body then and took him into her mouth. She could taste herself on him.

"_Oh my God_…" He uttered, in a voice barely audible.

He was so responsive, so in the moment, that the whole room buzzed with his energy. After a minute or two he begged her to stop, he was losing himself to her. He used strong hands to flip their positions so he was on top. He kissed her again, and ran his thumb lightly over her breast, down her across her stomach and over her thigh. In a swift, seamless movement, his hands were underneath her body and he was lifting her up. She rested her head against his chest as he carried her through to the bedroom and placed her tenderly onto that massive bed.

* * *

Their lovemaking went on and on through the night. They would switch between passionate exchanges, frenziedly trying to get inside each other's skin, then would revert to holding one another close and whispering all the things they had wished they had ever said. There were no boundaries, nothing that they could not share, whether bodies, or words.

Exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

When she woke, it was late morning and she got out of the bed and tiptoed to his en-suite bathroom. Much like his room back at the other house, it had a large bath in the centre. However this was more old-fashioned, with iron rolled-top and heavy clawed feet. She turned the taps and was delighted when plenty of hot water gushed out.

Every part of her ached; they had not held back in any way and her body felt utterly ravaged. She couldn't wait for the bath to fill and for her to relax into it. She shut the door and took care of necessities, which made her wince. She definitely needed the soothing water on her body.

She looked in his bathroom cabinet for soap or bubble bath, but of course it was empty, ready for a tenant. No matter, just the water would do.

She dipped her hand in the bath and let the water run through her fingers. Her mind drifted in and out of the moments from the night which she replayed in her mind as if they were slides from her childhood.

"_I can't imagine my life without you."_

She lowered herself gingerly into the hot water, allowing her hair to get wet and float over her shoulders. She dipped her head back under the water and she remembered his face as he had kissed her toes. She had wriggled away from him, ticklish and giggling and he had smiled up at her. His smile was quite something else, strikingly handsome and just a little bit wicked. Thinking about that lead her to remember the first time he had spooned her, which had been incredibly intimate and special, with him resting his hand on her hip bone and laying little kisses on her neck and shoulders. It had started innocently enough, but soon his hand had slid between her legs again and when she was on the verge of her umpteenth orgasm he had made his intention clear. She had been nervous, because she had never done _that_ before, but he whispered to her to relax and to move against him instead of the other way around. She had. The experience was altogether incredible, one of the many intense and private moments they had shared.

She could not believe how she had behaved, perhaps it was because he had been so gentle and tender with her that it had made her want to do things she had never done before. She wanted to push her boundaries, or maybe she just wanted him to see there was another side to her, that she wasn't just the good girl he thought she was. As more delicious moments came back to her, she dipped her head under the water and blew the air out of her cheeks. She opened her eyes and saw Damon's distorted face looking down at her, smiling. She took a moment to return to the surface; she enjoyed seeing him from that perspective, distant, yet close. He put his hand in the water and rested it on her shin.

"I'm going to take your car and head out; I'll bring you back a few things."

"Okay. Don't be long."

He smiled at that, then straightened up and kissed the crown of her hair. She reached out and grabbed his hand and pulled him back for a proper kiss. He closed the door behind him and she sank back into that wonderful tub.

* * *

When he returned, she was sat once again on that sofa, her feet under the throw reading _On the Road_. Her hair was drying out and going wavy in the sunshine.

"Miss me?" He asked.

"Of course I did."

He came and sat next to her, lifting her legs up and placing them over his lap.

"I bring gifts." He said, delving into the paper bag he carried. "Toothbrush, toothpaste…"

"Uch, I _love_ you!" she exclaimed, grabbing them both.

"_And_, the very best in vacuum-packed-croissants that the 7-Eleven had."

* * *

She followed him into the kitchen.

"You don't know how good it is to have clean teeth!" she said. He reached out for her, and kissed her.

After she ate, she began to wash dishes. He pulled her away from the sink and put his arms around her, his face serious once more.

"Elena, you know we can't sit around here, playing house. What are we going to do?" She smiled sadly and tried to kiss him again, but he wasn't falling for that twice. He caught her wrists in his hands.

"Elena, listen to me. You know what we have to do. You have to forget this; for good this time." When she responded with horror to this suggestion, he was secretly relieved.

"No, Damon! _Please_ don't do that, I couldn't bare it."

* * *

They went upstairs once more, forever drawn back to that study which had become their cocoon against the world. She stared out into the garden, a lawn that sloped down to the forest's edge. The sun had cast an eerie red sky outside. She stood with her hand placed lightly on the window, as if that world she wanted to keep outside was slowly seeping in and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"We have two choices." He was saying to her. "Either I know and you don't, or we both know. Either way it will be hell."

"We _both_ know." She said forcefully. "How can you possibly want me to forget?"

"How can you be with him if you don't?" He added reasonably.

She lowered her head and felt the shame creep over her like the onset of a disease.

"Damon, what if I don't want to go back?" She looked to him for his response. He was shaking his head.

"You don't mean that." He joined her by the window and put his arms around her. "Elena, I have to face this on my own. You know I do. What we have done, is my burden, not yours."

She began to cry, she couldn't help herself. He rocked her in his arms, but there was no comfort from the truth.

"What you are asking me to do, to forget last night ever happened... I don't ever want to forget."

"You have to. We'll never be happy otherwise." He said. "If you don't, all three of us will be miserable."

"We don't have to be. Don't do it. I promise I won't ever let him know, but don't make me forget Damon, please!" She begged, tears running down her cheeks.

"I must and I will do it properly this time. Shhh, it's okay." He squeezed her tight and let her cry. He knew that however tempted he was to let her remember, how could any of them ever have a shot at being truly happy if she did? If he had to be the one to suffer, then so be it. He was no stranger to that and he would do it for her anyway. One night with her was worth it.

He pulled back and turned her around so she would look at him. She closed her eyes firmly and so he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his.

"Open your eyes."

"No!"

He kissed her, softly on the lips and she kissed him back, but kept her eyes firmly closed.

"Open your eyes."

She shook her head. He kissed her again and she threw herself into his arms and held him tight.

"Elena… Please don't do this, don't make it any more difficult than it is already." He asked, but she refused to comply.

He sighed, the pain in his heart increasing by the moment. What could he say to her to make her see?

"Stefan _deserves_ you, Elena and by you being with him, you are still in my life. I'll always be there for you, but we both know that what we have here is fantasy and what you have with him is real. You have to open your eyes, sweetheart, not for me but for him. Open your eyes."

She leant back then and slowly she let them open.

"Please Damon," she begged, "just one more kiss."

He looked at her and knew what to do…


	2. Shadows Fall

**This was supposed to be the Stefan chapter, but just like our heroes, I seem to be avoiding dealing with that at the moment! Haha! **

**Gosh, I really hope you enjoy this**** chapter. **

**Shall I go on? I really appreciate your reviews/thoughts. Don't hold back! **

**Eek.**

**Letting in the Light**

**Chapter 2: Shadows Fall**

He knew he was going to regret this. He was certain he shouldn't cave in to her, but she was so distraught that doing anything right now would just be cruel. He was a hard man, but his heart was not made entirely of stone. Besides, when it came to her, judgment went pretty much out the window. Perhaps he could still compel her later on in the day, when she was calmer and they could both see things more clearly. (He didn't believe that for a second, but he tried to.)

He took her away from the window and sat her down.

"Come on now, no more tears." He used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe them away. "What we need to do, is get out of here for a bit."

She sniffed and nodded. It wasn't like her to dissolve like this, but she was just so scared he would wipe her memory she just disintegrated. To say that she was relieved now he had appeared to change his mind, didn't even begin to cover it.

* * *

They left the house by the back door and he directed her down his sloping lawn into the forest. As soon as the cool, crisp air hit their faces, their spirits rose. The path through the trees was narrow and lead downhill. She had to concentrate on her footing as her Converses weren't ideal for the pine-needle forest floor. She had asked where the path lead, but he just smiled enigmatically and said, "you'll see".

Eventually the path widened out and the forest changed from tall, domineering pines, to softer and prettier deciduous trees. In Fall it would no doubt be stunning.

They came to a ridge and finally the path was wide enough for him to be able to walk next to her. As they crested the rise, there was a break in the tree-line and she stopped to admire the view. On the horizon she saw the silver ribbon of a lake, glinting in the midday sunlight. She turned to look at him and communicated silently how beautiful it was. He smiled and continued walking. She ran to catch him up and after a moment's consideration she slipped her hand into his. He wasn't expecting that and slowed to a stop, turning to face her. She looked at him, squeezed his hand reassuringly when she found that his was shaking somewhat, (she guessed holding hands was probably new to him) and they continued to walk on in companionable silence. When the path began to narrow again, he let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder instead, pulling her in close. He kissed her hair.

* * *

Shortly after, the land levelled out and it was clear they were coming to the lakeside. He guided her down to the shingle shore. She dropped out from under his arm to pick up a stone. She took time to select one that was fit for her purpose and then she cast it out across the still waters of the lake. It hopped three or four times before sinking. She clicked her tongue. Not good enough.

He watched as she searched a bit further afield, tucking her hair behind her ears as she concentrated on combing the shoreline for a better stone.

He had to look away; she was so exquisite, so playful and carefree in this moment, that it caused him physical pain to think of being apart from her.

She found what she was looking for and cast it out. It bounced seven times before disappearing under the surface. She skipped around to face him, with a look on her face that said 'beat that'.

He raised an eyebrow. He could _so_ beat that.

After fifteen minutes of skimming stones (which eventually turned into just hurling bigger and bigger rocks into the water to see who could make the biggest splash), she came over to him for a soggy embrace. Naturally he won both competitions, but he did at least _pretend_ to make it a fair fight. He stroked her hair and she looked up at him.

"I like your hair like this." He said. It was normally so neat, with a bone-straight finish, but today she had let it dry naturally and it had fallen into soft loose waves, which drifted freely in the breeze.

She gave him a hug and returned her gaze to his face. He looked very serious as he leaned down to kiss her. She slipped her hand behind his head and enjoyed the kiss, which was deep and long. The atmosphere changed, taking on an erotic charge. She stepped back, wanting to cool things down for a moment, everything was just too intense. She walked back to the waterside. He took a moment to recover, then went to join her. They began strolling along the shore and she asked him what he planned to do with the house now she had discovered it. He shook his head.

"I won't rent it out now." He said, and an unspoken thought passed between them. "I think you may have to tell your friend that it _did_ turn out to be too good to be true after all." He smirked and she nodded her agreement.

They walked for a few minutes when they came upon an old, abandoned wooden dinghy, lying on the shore. It was missing its seat, but the interior was dry and inviting, with its blue/grey whitewash. She climbed inside and indicated for him to squeeze in next to her. He climbed in too and took her face into his hands, kissing her passionately, trying to ignore the creeping feeling that this may be his last moment with her.

He let his hands wander over her body. He flicked open the buttons of her shirt, seeking out her breasts and then squeezing her crotch through the denim of her jeans. She moaned softly in response and he nuzzled at her neck whilst working open her fly. Things got heated fast and soon she was wriggling out of the jeans. She climbed on top of him and looked down at his body, his shirt was open to the navel and her hands were pressed against his chest. He was impatient for her and gripping her panties with both hands he ripped them apart at the seams. She unzipped his fly, freeing him from the constrictive fabric. She straddled his body and guided him into her.

She began to move in a slow unhurried way, taking him deeper into her with every gyration whilst he placed his hands on her hips and let her take control. She let her hair fall over her face as she lowered her eyes to meet his. Every bit of her tingled with pleasure. She had never had sex outside before and it felt like the most natural thing in the world; or maybe what was natural to her, was who she was having it with.

He was looking at her intently and for a moment she allowed herself to see herself through his eyes. Who was this sexy 'devil-may-care' girl, with unkempt hair in her mouth and eyes, self-assuredly driving her man to distraction? She really liked the person she was when she was with him. She flung her head back and embraced the feeling.

Damon on the other hand, was falling apart. He knew he was losing himself bit by bit to her. Every second he spent in her company made it more difficult to deal with what he knew had to come.

Her head rolled back, utterly lost in the moment, exposing her navel from under her open black shirt. All he could do was take in the color of her skin, the movement of her hair, her sight of her parted lips and the scent of her - even the barely-there sound of her sighing – and imprint the whole experience in his mind, forever.

He had been holding back, but now he let himself go. She found his hands and gripped them, fingers interlaced with his; their eyes met as he came.

* * *

They got back to the house in the late afternoon, hearts heavy. She went inside and collected the novel he had loaned her, but didn't linger, walking straight back outside and getting in the car. In silence she drove him back to where he left his vehicle in the roadhouse lot.

In daytime the bar was closed. Its drab, deserted, litter-strewn car park was a befitting venue for the awful, but inevitable, moment of their parting.

As they stood in shared misery saying their silent goodbyes, he stroked her face as he liked to do.

"What will you say was the reason you have been gone so long?" He asked as he cupped her face in his hands, trapping her wild and beautiful hair over her ears.

"I don't know." She confessed unhappily, "I'll think of something."

"You have to stay away from him, for at least two days. Longer if you can. No matter how many times you shower, it will take that long for the scent of me to fade on you."

She nodded despondently, her gaze dropping to her shoes as if the enormity of what they had done - of what she was about to do - had finally caught up with her. He broke the heavy silence.

"It's not too late; you can change your mind. I can take this all away for you. It doesn't have to hurt like this."

She shook her head.

He kissed her lightly on her lips and again on the crown of her head. Then he walked away from her, got into his car and drove off at speed, gravel spitting out from under his spinning tyres.

* * *

He didn't want to, but he forced his eyes to look into his rear view mirror as he drove away. He saw her with head hung low, a diminishing soul in the centre of a deserted car-park.

* * *

He made it a mile before he had to stop. He pulled erratically into a lay-by and jumped out the car. He collapsed onto his knees, his hand resting on the car bonnet whilst he waited for his head to stop spinning.

It was the most human he had felt since he had turned.

* * *

She got into the car and began to shake. She turned the key in the ignition and drove in the opposite direction.

She would not cry.

She

would

not

cry.

She made it a mile before she burst into tears. She pulled over erratically into a deserted gas station. She sobbed until she thought her heart would break from it.

* * *

It was dark by the time she pulled into her driveway. She hoped she would be able to say she had flu, which would explain away her ghostly complexion and red eyes. She walked into her house, and Jeremy was there, a slice of toast balanced sideways in his mouth as he used both hands to pack soccer gear into his bag.

"Hey." He said, then on seeing her face added, "Jeez, are you okay? You look terrible."

"Don't come near me." She advised, taking the stairs three at a time. "I think I have flu."

He called up the stairs after her.

"Hey, where were you last night? Jenna was doing her nut that you weren't answering your cell." He heard her bedroom door slam, so shrugged and left the house.

* * *

She lay on her bed and finally switched on her phone. She listened whilst it beeped its way through half a dozen missed calls. She threw it to one side. She would listen to them later. Right now, she had to think – had to come up with some sort of plan.

But she couldn't. Her mind was blank and when she tried to focus, all she could think about was him; his body, the feel of him inside of her, the look he gave her when they parted.

Suddenly a physical sensation entered her consciousness that something sharp was digging in to her, and she reached down and picked the offending item out of her bra. It was a little, bright yellow leaf. She slipped it between the pages of the book he had given her and slid it under her bed.

She curled into a foetal ball. What to do now? One of those messages, probably more than one of them, was Stefan.

She blinked the dryness out of her eyes. Before she could think about it, she put out her hand and grabbed the phone.

He picked up in two rings.

"Hey. Where have you been?" He said. "I've been trying to call you. Are you okay?"

"I have flu." She said automatically.

"Oh, man that's crappy." He said. "I'll come over, bring you some nice things."

"No!" She almost shouted. Then bit her lip, she had to be cleverer than that. "No, please don't. I look like crap and I feel worse. Please just let me sleep it off. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay, sure…If that's what you want. Feel better, sweetheart. I'll speak to you soon."

She hung up and cradled the phone to her chest as she shut her eyes.

So this was it. This was how she would handle things, one painful step at a time.

She looked at the dialler display and ignored the missed calls. She switched it over to show her the list of dialled calls. At the top of the list, was just one name.

_Damon_.


	3. Sky High

**Right, I am going to deal with the Stefan issue…. *rolls up sleeves***

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews and suggestions. You have really lifted my spirits when I have needed it most and I really appreciate that. You have also given me plenty of things to think about too! I am not going to keep everyone happy, but I've tried be truthful to what I think would happen. **

**I hope you like this next (rather long) chapter. Please note, it includes rather more artistic licence than actual knowledge… If you like it, I may do one more.**

**Letting the Light in**

**Chapter 3: Sky High**

Awake, bleary-eyed and fuzzy, that now familiar iron taste in the mouth.

Get out of bed. Get _OUT _of bed. Bathroom.

Wash, brush teeth, brush hair, dress.

Clothes too big. Tighten belt another notch.

Breakfast. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Ignore concerned glances across the OJ.

Pack bag, leave for school, attend lessons.

Conversation. Yes, she had seen Jersey Shore, no she didn't think dress was cute, of course he would ask that girl on a date, yes, she was fine….

Get into car, drive home.

Put bins out, do homework, watch TV.

Ten o'clock, go to room, strip off clothes and fall into bed. Lie with eyes open until sleep is unavoidable.

Twelve days, five hours and sixteen minutes since his last kiss.

* * *

On day three of her 'illness' Stefan had insisted on seeing her and she knew she could not hold him off any more. She had said that she would come to his place, as she knew it meant she would be able to leave when she wanted to. She had another reason for wanting to go there, but she pushed that to the back of her mind…

When she arrived, he pulled her into a massive bear hug and she let herself be smothered by him. The guilt of what she had done, bit into her deeply and she held him tight. He kissed her tenderly.

"I've missed you so much." He said, and rocked her in his arms. "Do you realise this is the longest we've been apart?"

She shook her head and gave him a weak smile.

"No, I didn't." She said.

"Are you all better now? You still look kind of pale." Worry laced his voice.

"I'm fine. It sucked, but I'm alright."

"Come and sit down." He led her by the hand into the living room.

She couldn't help it, but her eyes flicked immediately to the closed door on the landing.

"Is…?"

"Oh no, don't worry he's not around. I haven't seen him in days." A grin broke out across Stefan's face. "We have the place to ourselves." He leaned in to her and began to kiss her neck and she winced.

"Can I have something to drink?" She asked suddenly, anything to stop him doing that.

"Of course! Sorry, I should have… I'm just so pleased to see you. You're still not one-hundred-percent and I shouldn't have... Anyway, let me get you something."

He didn't try to touch her again that day and she had made her excuses and left after an hour. He seemed hurt, but as he was convinced she was still on the road to recovery he let her leave without complaint.

When she got outside, she took a big, gasping breath of air as if she was surfacing from being underwater. She closed her eyes and let the faintness pass.

She got into her car and drove hurriedly away.

* * *

Since that day and for the past two weeks she had used every excuse she could think of not to see him, or anyone else for that matter. Suddenly her schoolwork was super important, that paper she had been delaying was now insanely urgent. She had to help Jenna, collect Jeremy, run to the shops and go to her parents' graveside…. (OMG she had _actually_ used her parents as an excuse. That was beyond the pale.)

When she was alone and the door closed firmly behind her, all she could think of was Damon. The look on his face as he lay next to her, his body, the touch of his lips on hers…

She would hug her pillow and fall asleep, wishing it were his chest she lay against.

After the first few days had passed, during which she could neither eat nor sleep, paranoia set in. Why hadn't he called her?

Her mind would go down avenues so sick she was surprised by it; was her body too like Katherine's? Did he like that, or did it repulse him? Was she rubbish in bed? Did he think she was too fat, too thin? Did he think she wasn't worth the effort? Was she too needy? Not needy enough?

Quickly the paranoia turned to anger. Why didn't he ask her to stay? Why did he make her go back to Stefan, when he knew that she loved him? Why didn't he call her?

She sent him a message, a quote from the Kerouac novel as if it were some secret code between them.

_The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss _

She never heard back.

Each avenue lead her back to her despair. She had no answers for any of it, just the dull and painful ache of wanting to make love to him again and fall asleep in his arms.

She knew this feeling; she had been there before. It was grieving.

* * *

She walked down the stairs, her head still processing thoughts as if they were instructions.

Walk. One foot in front of the other. Hold banister.

This wasn't living. It was surviving.

On the thirteenth day, Stefan suddenly appeared at the bottom of her stairs. She felt the shock, but tried to control it.

"Good morning. Go and pack yourself an overnight bag please. I'm taking you somewhere."

"I have school…" she began.

"It's Saturday, Elena." He looked faintly angry, but didn't otherwise comment.

It was a simple instruction; she could handle that.

She turned around and did as she was told.

* * *

He had put her into the passenger seat of his little red sports car and they were on route to goodness knows where. He was smiling and chattering and she was looking out the window watching the countryside pass in a blur.

"Elena? I said are you comfortable, or do you want a rest stop?" He asked, clearly for the second time.

"Oh – no. I'm fine. Stefan, where are we going?"

"We've been on the road two hours and _now_ you're interested," he said, "well now I'm not telling you, as we are nearly there and it will spoil the surprise."

"Okay…" she said, then realised that the lack of enthusiasm in her voice was getting to him. She turned to him and gave him her best fake smile. "Can't wait to find out what it is."

That seemed to work. He carried on chatting about this and that and nothing in particular and she muttered some automatic responses that she felt where right. When he didn't protest, she assumed she was making sense.

* * *

At the summit of a steep hill, they turned sharply away from the traffic into a road sign-posted 'Private Land'.

The terrain on either side of them opened out into long and desolate tracts of arable farmland, stretching as far as the eye could see.

It was clear that this road was an access route to a farmhouse. Eventually the building itself began to come into view. It was imposing farm made up of a large complex of grain silos, stables and barns, all located around a central courtyard.

It aroused a mild curiosity.

"Where are we?" she asked, but he didn't respond.

He continued to drive along what was turning into a bumpy dirt track, avoiding the worst of the ditches until they reached the entrance.

"Here's Bill." He said as he pulled to a stop. "Come on, I want you to meet him."

She looked out of her window to see a rugged man walking towards them, his hand raised in greeting. Stefan got quickly out the car and she watched the two of them embrace as old friends. The man's two scrappy dogs leapt excitedly around them yapping their own greetings.

She got out of the car and Stefan came to get her, placing a possessive arm around her shoulders. Clearly it mattered that this Bill person knew they were an item.

"So you're the lucky girl then." Bill said, with a trace of a dialect that she couldn't quite place, except to say he was probably from somewhere quite far North. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you." He smiled.

She wished she could say the same, but nonetheless she shook Bill's proffered and gnarled hand. One of his dogs leapt up and put his dirty paws on her stomach, and she gave its ears an affectionate rub. He licked her hand - tail wagging furiously.

"Get down, Fly!" Bill said, grabbing the collar of the offending pooch and pulling him down. "Sorry, they're farm dogs. No manners!"

"Its okay," she said wanly, "I like dogs." But her words were snatched away by the incredibly loud sound of escaping gas. She looked towards where the sound seemed to come from, but the high-sided barn and silos blocked her view. Now she was out the car, she could also discern the voices of men shouting to each other. Bill caught her gaze and gave Stefan a conspiratorial wink.

"Shall we?" He asked.

"After you."

They walked over the muck-strewn yard and cut through the double doors of a barn, which smelled pleasantly of hay.

When she came out the other side, she was surprised to a dozen men all engaged in the handling of an enormous hot-air balloon, which was currently straining at its tethers. They were shouting instructions to one another, trying to keep the balloon steady whilst it filled. It was a surreal and beautiful sight; an extraordinary bright red against the pale-blue vista of the vast skyline, pocked-marked with wispy white clouds.

Two men were at the basket, one inside it controlling the flow of the gas, the other outside untying ropes. The rest of the men were at the tethers, trying to keep the vast fifty-foot behemoth anchored. The dogs ran around barking wildly at the audacity of the existence of this floating, fire-breathing beast.

Bill wandered over to the men at the basket and spoke to them. Stefan held her back. He gave her shoulders a massage and her cheek a quick kiss.

"Are you ready?" He asked her.

She knew it was stupid of her, but until he said it, it hadn't even occurred to her that she would be going up in the thing.

"Oh my God! Are you kidding me?"

He laughed. "Yes, I am joking you." He said sarcastically. "I drove you all this way so you could look at it…. Of course not! We are going up. Are you excited? Nervous?"

"Both." She confessed, and realised it was actually true. Was this _actually_ a feeling cutting through her numbness?

Bill waved them across and Stefan put his hands on her shoulders and guided her in front of him.

"You are dealing with a four-knot south-easterly, Stef. The sat-phone is over there and your ballast points have been checked. If I were you, I wouldn't take her beyond four and a half thousand, and I'd keep an eye on the McAdams gauge which still needs adjustments as you rise. Okay?" Stefan nodded. It was clear he was actually going to be in control of this thing; neither Bill nor the two men currently at the basket were coming with them. Her heart skipped a beat.

Bill opened a little door within the basket and gestured for her to get inside. She stepped up and they guy still currently at the gas control said a friendly 'hi' to her. She said hi back and felt her heart beat even faster. Stefan climbed in beside her and engaged in a quick conversation with the man, who handed him his gloves, then stepped out.

Stefan tapped at a pressure gauge and read the readout.

"Almost three-eighty. Okay, she's good to go." He said to Bill, who nodded in response. The two basket men were walking away and as she watched them go she felt a slight sense of panic.

"Just give me the signal," Bill said, "and she's all yours."

On seeing Elena's face, Stefan reassured her. "Its alright, I have my FAA licence. Although I did get it back in nineteen thirty-five, so I _could _be a little rusty…" She looked at him to check he was joking. Impossible to tell.

Bill stepped back from the basket, throwing a couple of smaller trailing ropes inside as he retreated. "There's a seat behind you, young lady." He said - nodding to the edge of the basket, which had a wooden seat built in. "You'll want to sit down for take off and landing and hang on tight, okay?" She nodded anxiously and did as she was told; sitting down and sliding her hands into two conveniently placed handholds. Holding on was not something she needed to be encouraged to do. "Don't worry, if there's a tear, it'll all be over before you know it." She took a moment to release he was joking too.

She looked at Stefan, who was trying to disguise a smile. He released the gas again in a controlled burst: the noise was ear splitting. She flinched and Bill laughed.

"You'll get used to it soon enough!" He shouted to her. She held so tight, her knuckles turned white.

Bill stood a good ten feet back and the dogs ran over to him and buried their snuffling noses in his hands.

"Bon voyage, my friends! Bring my balloon back in one piece."

"_Your_ balloon?" Stefan shouted and Bill gave him a wide grin.

Stefan gave him a nod and raised his free arm. Suddenly the men at either end of the ropes released the tethers and the balloon immediately lurched ten feet up from the ground. Her hands gripped for all she was worth.

She anxiously peeped over the side. She saw Bill raise his hand again, until he was twenty, now thirty, feet away. She gulped and looked at Stefan. He seemed to relax as the balloon stabilised. They began to move horizontally, as well as vertically.

He smiled at her.

"Okay?" He shouted over the sound of rushing wind.

She nodded. Well, she wasn't dead yet, if that's what he meant.

He smiled and looked once more to the horizon, guiding them to an unknown location.

She tried to relax and finally, hesitantly, she began to look over the edge. By now they were far up in the sky and Bill and his team were mere specs on the horizon, just a tiny feature within the patchwork of fields and roads that made up the stunning view beneath them.

It truly was beautiful.

* * *

"Can you get up?" He asked her and she thought about that. She let her hands relax, and found that she did feel more confident. She tested herself and decided she could stand.

"Do you want a go?" He asked. And she smiled at him. Yes, actually, she really did.

Clinging to the side, she moved towards him. The motion of the basket was actually no worse than that of a moving train and she felt more confident standing than she did sitting down. When she went over to him he put a steadying arm around her waist and showed her what to do, giving her his gloves to wear. She pulled the handle releasing the gas as he instructed and giggled when the flames shot up into the belly of the gigantic beast. He laughed too and gave her a quick kiss.

"You're a natural!" He said over the noise. "That was perfectly timed." She smiled at him, grateful for the compliment.

Could it be… was she _actually_ having fun?

They drifted like that for a while and he pointed out things to her on the horizon. She noted that the sense of forward movement was stronger than she ever would have imagined from seeing apparently slow-moving balloons from the ground. He held her firm and kissed her neck. She felt secure in his arms.

"Elena, are you happy?" He asked, his tone changing slightly. She gulped, unsure what to say to him.

"Its fantastic!" she said, picking the safest answer.

"No, I mean, are you happy with me?" He asked her.

She panicked and answered immediately.

"Of course I am!"

He nodded slowly and thoughtfully.

"Good, that's good." He seemed to want to say more, but he had to concentrate and so he left it at that - for which she was extraordinarily grateful.

* * *

After an hour of floating freely, Stefan said it was time for them to make their descent. She felt anxious but excited. He warned her that it could be bumpy and told her what to do if the basket should come down on its side, but she trusted that he would not allow that to happen. The feeling as the balloon rushed over the ground was exhilarating.

It landed with a tiny hop and bump. "Out of practice." He grumbled, but she thought he was being hard on himself. It seemed near perfect to her.

She had been so tied up on watching the point where they would hit the ground, that she hadn't noticed that Bill had arrived there ahead of them. He was stood next to his jeep, his dogs inside barking noisily. Attached to the back of the jeep was a horsebox with a lowered ramp and as Stefan began his own disembarkation procedures, she realised a woman was unloading two horses from the back of it.

Bill came over and helped her out of the basket and she took his offered hand gratefully. Her legs were still wobbling.

"Not dead then." He said dryly.

"That was amazing!"

"Well, he's a fair pilot, our Stefan. Always was."

"Fair?" Stefan complained. "I taught you everything you know!" Bill chuckled.

"Aye, I suppose you did."

She stood waiting for the two of them to finish a quick conversation about the handling and Stefan's opinions on what he felt needed doing for the balloon's upkeep (it did actually belong to him, she now understood). Some of the men she had seen this morning were also arriving in jeeps with trailers to take the balloon back. She was vaguely interested, but she felt her eyes drift over to the woman at the horsebox, who was currently saddling up a beautiful speckled bay. The grey next to it tossed its mane and showed its teeth.

The woman caught her eye and smiled. She beckoned for Elena to join her. As the men were deep in conversation, she saw no reason not to. She approached the horses and patted the grey who was tugging at a barely-there patch of grass; he didn't seem to appreciate the attention and tossed his head.

Now she was closer, Elena could tell the woman was about the same age as Bill (mid thirties), despite wearing unflattering Wellingtons and an old holey cardigan that reached her knees, she was definitely pretty. She was a honey blonde with thick golden tresses that fell across her shoulders as she worked.

"So you're Elena, then. You're as beautiful as he said." She said, a sparkle in her eyes.

"Erm, thanks…" she said, embarrassed. Who were these people that all knew about her? The woman seemed to pick up on her confusion and she dropped the hoof pick she was using, brushed the dirt off her hand and offered it to Elena.

"I expect he hasn't told you about us, has he?" Elena shook her head. "Well, I'm Jade - Bill's wife. And we've known Stef forever. He's a bit of an idiot sometimes about women, but I think he did right by finding you." She smiled and continued with her prep of the horses. Elena blushed.

"It's nice to meet you." She said and she meant it too. She kind of assumed Stefan didn't have any human friends, yet alone people who called him 'Stef'. Her curiosity was growing.

"Right then," Jade began, "I think we are done here. The boys are coming over anyway."

She straightened up.

"Up you get." She instructed. Elena's eyes went wide. She had not expected this and she hesitated. "The bay's yours – he's got a good temperament and will do well with you. Stef likes the grey, although God knows why, he's a bloody brute - but he seems to respond to Stefan." She continued. "Need a leg up?" She asked when Elena didn't move.

Stefan came over at that moment and smiled at her. He laughed when she looked at him, stunned.

"You told me once that you liked to ride."

"That was a long time ago."

"You'll be fine. It's just like riding a bicycle, you never forget." He went over and kissed Jade on the cheek and she handed him the reigns of the grey.

"He's been in a foul mood this morning," she warned, "bit me twice on the way into the trailer – bloody animal. You settle him down." She said. He nodded firmly.

"Thanks Jay, we'll see you later."

In a really swift and professional move, he was up on the grey in no time. The horse bad temperedly whinnied a protest, pranced backwards and tried to pull free of the reigns. Stefan took no notice of the tantrum and used the strength in his thighs to turn him on the spot. He waited a few paces ahead for Elena to join him, whilst Bill gave her a leg up onto her horse (who was apparently called 'Brown').

Stefan smiled as she walked Brown over to him and pulled him to a standstill. She grinned. Perhaps she did remember more than she thought she had.

With a kick, he galloped immediately away, assuming she would be confident enough to follow. She lifted her weight forward and Brown took off like a bullet.

* * *

They galloped over the farmland, sometimes neck in neck, sometimes overtaking each other playfully. The big grey chomped at his bit and Stefan let him take his head. Brown took her rather rusty commands well and proved Jade right.

When they slowed to a trot and she sat back in her saddle and let her legs rest.

At some point Stefan found a cattle trough and they pulled the horses up there and allowed them to drink.

"Having fun?" He asked. She smiled, this time no need for fakery.

"It's been a brilliant day." She said, and felt almost guilty for thinking it. He nodded and looked out at the horizon.

"It's not over yet." He reminded her. "Come on, last one to that cattle station has to make dinner." And he was off.

* * *

She had noticed on their ride that the grey, who ironically was named Challenger, was as difficult a horse to master as Jade had said he was. He was skittish, headstrong, pulled at every opportunity and would (given half the chance) throw his rider and trot back home. Perhaps it was responding to the vampire in Stefan, but whatever it was, the horse paid attention when he commanded it and Stefan in turn seemed to enjoy the challenge of controlling such a difficult beast. It was as if he had been born to it.

The cattle station was little more than a series of low-slung barns strung together. He told her they should stop and rest properly for a moment. He dismounted and tied up Challenger and she followed suit.

She followed him to the edge of the hilltop they had been riding along. She had been lagging behind him, so when he disappeared over the crest of the hill, she was forced to follow. When she got over the other side, she found he was waiting for her, sat on the centre of a bright red rug, resplendent with chilled champagne.

She stopped in her tracks. How much planning had he put into this day? He smiled, and motioned for her to join him. She went over and sat down on the ground beside him.

"This is amazing." She said. "Thank you." He was busy opening champagne, but when he saw her smile, he stopped and looked at her.

"Its good to see you smile. It's been a while." She looked away, embarrassed.

He gave her a glass and they drank in silence, looking out across the wonderful view that only an hour before they had seen from an altogether different perspective.

"You always seem to know the right thing to do." She said, almost to herself.

"I'm not so sure about that. Otherwise I would have turned out Damon long ago."

She tried not to react to that, but couldn't meet his eye. There were lots of reasons he would say that. She busied herself with her glass, the alcohol already going to her head.

He moved himself so that he was sat right next to her, knees bent, arms loosely around them and touching hers. He leaned sideways nudging her affectionately, as if to say 'it's all ok' and yet, strangely she felt the meaning behind the move was quite the opposite. It was as if the atmosphere of fun rivalry and competition had faded away.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

"Does he make you happy?"

She looked at him and looked away quickly.

"I… I don't know what…" She began to bluff, but he interrupted her.

"I've been around a long time Elena. You don't need to lie to me." She blushed to her roots and she felt hot, salty tears spring to her eyes. Her heart was pounding and she swallowed hard.

"You've been a mess since the night you disappeared, Damon hasn't come home since then either… It wasn't hard to figure out." He nudged her again, that same reassuring move. The fact he was trying to console her when she didn't deserve it made her break down. He let her cry for a bit saying nothing, but left his arm lightly touching hers, as if the proximity would calm her.

"I let you down." He said. "I should have seen what you two had between you and done something about it. But I was proud, Elena, I didn't want to admit to it."

He watched as an airplane passed them by, leaving a thin white trail in an otherwise cloudless sky.

"I guess I hoped that he would move on, find someone new to obsess over... I didn't know it was serious. And it is serious, isn't it?" The last was a question, but she was in no fit state to answer. Her lack of response confirmed it for him anyway and he nodded bitterly.

He put his hand out and took hold of her chin and looked into her tear-stained eyes.

"If you think I am going to give you up without a fight, you don't know me at all. You're mine Elena."

"I'm not… I'm not some possession." She managed to say.

"No, you aren't. Not a possession, you are far more important to me than that, you are my salvation." He said. She felt her heart crumble at that and let her head fall against her knees; she sobbed into them.

"He thinks he loves you and I know you love him. But he won't make you happy." She could barely stand it; Stefan was voicing the fears that kept her awake at night. "You give yourself to him and all you will face is his darkness; his neuroses, his problems. Slowly you will disappear. He'll kill your spirit. He won't mean to, but he will. He carries darkness inside him. I love him too Elena, I do, but he'll break you down and he'll destroy you." He took her shoulder and turned her to face him, but she could not meet his eyes.

"Look at me…" He instructed and eventually she had no choice. "I'm not giving up on you. If he wants a fight, he's got one. But you have to chose, because I won't share you."

She got up and stumbled away from him. The blood drained from her face and she began to sway. In a flash, he was behind her pulling her into his body. He turned her around and kissed her, his tongue deep in her mouth, his hands crushing her against him. She had never known him like this, so vehement, so desperate in his need for her.

"He can't have you." He whispered breathlessly. "I'll burn the whole damn world before I let him take you from me."

To her shock, she felt a thread of desire run through her.

* * *

They got back on the horses and cantered in silence towards the farmhouse. She felt nauseous, her head spinning with so many questions. How long had he known? Why did he plan all these things for her today if he knew she had cheated on him? And of course the big one - did she want to be with him?

A girl came and took the horses from them as they clattered into the courtyard, and they entered the farmhouse by its always-open front door. She felt her legs buckling and she hesitated. She didn't want to go inside, she didn't want to face Bill or Jade, with their kind but probing eyes. They would know somehow, uncover her shame. She was shaking, but he put a firm hand on her back and pushed her gently inside.

"Welcome back." Jade called from inside the kitchen. She walked out to meet them both, drying her hands on the apron she wore. "Good ride?"

"Yes." He said. "It was… enlightening."

Jade was no idiot and could see something had passed between them, but she didn't pry. She nodded and returned back to the kitchen, calling after her shoulder for Elena to join her. Elena shook her head in a firm and panicked 'no' to Stefan, but again he steered her firmly, giving her no choice.

She entered the kitchen, feeling miserable, sick and tearful. Jade didn't look at her but busied herself at a worktop.

"You can wash your hands over there," she nodded to a massive sink in the corner of the old stone kitchen, "I have a thousand things to do before fifteen hungry mouths descend on this place expecting to be fed. I'm glad for your help. And anyway, it will give us a chance to chat."

Oh God.

Stefan was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed and Jade now turned her attention to him.

"You can leave us Stef, I'll take good care of her, I promise. Bill's in the barn, why don't you join him?" It was an instruction, not a request and he nodded and left Elena with a look that was hard to interpret. Despite how scared she was of him now her dirty laundry was out in the open, she hated the fact he left her alone with this woman she barely knew – but whom she suspected could see right into the heart of things.

Still, she did as she was told, washed her hands and went over to Jade, trying to hide her real emotions.

"What would you like me to do?" She asked in a quiet voice.

"Well, you can make a start at peeling those potatoes." Jade nodded to a massive stack of them lying on a workbench in the centre of the large kitchen.

"Put the skins in that bucket. The pigs will love them."

She herself was putting the finishing touches on an apple pie.

Elena walked over to the potatoes and felt her hands shake as she picked up the peeler.

"So, I guess you are wondering if we know about Stefan aren't you?"

Not any more she thought, other things had gotten in the way of that. However, she went with the simple answer of 'yes'.

"Well, we do. I'm a local girl to Mystic, but Bill was fifteen when he moved down from Alaska. He was a tearaway. He didn't like it here - too different from where he had lived I guess. He got teased, you know how kids can be." She sighed at that. "I always liked him though. He used to come to the diner where I waited table and we'd talk for hours. Back then, he was always causing trouble, you know getting in fights, drink, drugs, and run-ins with the law, a walking cliché I suppose. I couldn't stop him, nobody could - he was just a square peg in a round hole. He always liked animals though and he was calmer around them. He once carried an injured bird in his pocket, fed it grubs until it was big enough to fend for itself." She drifted away in her reverie and reached out a hand to tweak a dead rose head from the little potted plant on her windowsill, leaving just perfect blooms to soak up the sunshine.

She got back to the point. "Back in those days Stef kept horses." She continued. "Like an idiot Bill thought it would be a great idea to try and steal one. He was caught of course. Instead of involving the law, Stef took pity on him; he could see how the horses calmed him. I guess they just hit it off. Bill looked up to Stef and he even began to bring him into the diner. Of course I was insanely jealous, well he didn't need me any more." She looked embarrassed "I decided to punish him for that, so I asked Stef out on a date." She smiled at that, like it was hugely amusing. She had been rolling out more pastry again, but now she stopped and looked at Elena, who had barely made a dent in own work.

"Oh don't you worry, it was a disaster. We had no chemistry at all. I only did it so that Bill would notice me and I suppose in that sense it worked; Bill took a swing at him. Not such a smart move, when dealing with a vampire…." She gave a wry smile.

"Stef turns nasty, but runs off. He didn't want to hurt us you see. Bill and I agreed we had to find him. It took a while, but we persuaded him that his secret was safe with us and that was that. Bill and I hooked up that night and we've been together ever since. We have our ups and downs, but we're happy." She smiled. "We don't see as much of Stef as we would like to, but he comes back once or twice a year to say hello. Last time he came back all he could talk about was you." She paused and looked Elena directly in the eyes, making her hurriedly returned to her peeling.

"You know he's besotted with you, don't you?" Jade asked and Elena slowly nodded. "But you're not so sure, are you?" She couldn't reply. She bit her bottom lip, determined not to cry again.

"Oh, poor girl. I see how it is." She folded her arms and looked out the kitchen window. "There's someone else isn't there?" Elena stopped what she was doing and the tears came of their own accord. She rested her hands in her lap, a half peeled potato in one, and the peeler in the other.

"That devil of a brother I'm guessing, otherwise you wouldn't be in such a mess. And boy, he is one to get messy over, that's for sure." She clearly fully understood Damon's charms. She walked to Elena and pulled her into a massive bear hug, potato, peeler, tears and all. Elena breathed her in; she smelled of apples, cinnamon, horses and home.

"Elena, I can't help you decide, only you will be able to do that. But I can tell you this, I have known Stefan for the best part of twenty years. He one of the best men I know and he's not even human. Damon, well… he's a lot of things, but he's dangerous. Don't you forget that." She gave her shoulders a squeeze and added in a lighter tone, "Why do we girls always like the bad-boys?" She smiled, "Truth is, they usually turn out to be just that. Bad. I guess I was just lucky…"

* * *

Later after they had prepared a mountain of food, Elena began to understand why the front door was always left open. The farm hands came in in droves; they removed their boots, washed up, gave Jade a kiss and went and sat around the big table in their living room. Stefan's arrival was clearly a cause for celebration. Jade and Bill clearly loved their place as the heads of this happy, noisy family. Elena could see how close they were as a couple from the way they barely stopped touching each other whenever an opportunity presented itself. When she herself finally went to join them, Bill chucked one of his men out of his seat so that she could sit beside him. He told her he wanted to get to know this girl who had made his friend 'lose his marbles'. She felt so bad, but it was hard to stay feeling that way with Jade constantly squeezing her shoulder whenever she passed and Bill piling up her food on her plate.

* * *

In the evening, the company whittled down to just the four of them as the workers returned to their own homes. The dogs settled down too and rested beside the open fire. Bill opened the bottle of whisky that Stef had bought for him and to her surprise he rolled and sparked up a fat joint, which he insisted they all shared. She took the drugs deep into her lungs and let them calm her. Not much of an example to Jer, she thought ironically. She couldn't bring herself to care all that much today. She was quite emotionally drained. The crackling fire, alcohol, drugs and their easy hospitality all began to make the world seem not so bad after all. She must have dozed off, as the next thing she remembered was Stefan placing his hands on her shoulders, kissing her head and suggesting they go to bed. When she looked up, she saw that Jade too was curled up asleep on Bill's lap and his dogs lay snoozing at his feet. So they whispered their good nights and Bill raised a silent hand to them both as they left together.

* * *

She realized this was the first time since that night that she and Stefan would share a bed, the significance not lost on either of them. She yawned and undressed quickly, putting on pajamas and jumping under the covers, making the brass bedstead creak. He took off his shirt and jeans and stood in his Calvins in the shadowy corner of the room. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her.

"Kiss me." He said. She looked at him; his body was curved in the same easy way as it was when he had been sat in the saddle earlier that day. He looked pretty fine.

He asked her again.

"Kiss me."

She was tired, but something about the way he said it, got her to swing her legs back out of the bed, go over to him and gave him a quick kiss. She turned to go back to bed, but he caught her hand.

"You didn't hear me right." He said. "I said _kiss_ me."

He pulled her into his body and took his time to kiss her properly. She found herself reluctant at first, but the drink and drugs lowered her inhibitions and she found herself responding. Then using the same, slow, deep voice he said, "Take off your clothes."

She looked at him, unsure what to make of this. He sat down on the little wooden chair behind him and leaned forwards, resting his forearms on his knees. He was very serious. She felt herself blush - she found herself wanting to do it for him, but more surprisingly, she wanted to do it for herself.

She began to undo the buttons of her pajama top, but he paused her with a command.

"Slow down."

He had never before told her what to do. She felt a little dizzy and her hands began to shake some, but she did as she was told.

"Look at me." He said, "Look at me whilst you do it." His voice was like molasses.

She met his eyes and continued undoing buttons, slowly tossing her hair over her shoulders. He made no secret of the fact that he was enjoying all of her body with his eyes.

She let the top slide slowly and seductively, off her shoulders, allowing her long dark hair to fall over her naked breasts. He drank her in. He shifted a little in the chair and she knew even in this half-light that he was aroused. She began to grow in her own desire.

"Keep going." He instructed.

She slowly undid the tie on the pajama bottoms and gave them a slight push to below her hips, letting gravity do the rest. When they hit the ground, she stepped out of them and she stood there for a moment, her body exposed and responding to the coolness of the room. She _wanted _him to drink her in. Before her heart had time to complete a single beat, she was off her feet and on the bed before she had time to think about it.

He was on top of her, kissing her neck and moving his hand between her legs, opening her to him. He kissed down her body and when he reached her breast, he sucked at her nipple biting it lightly with human teeth. As the pain registered, she gave a little cry and at that exact moment he pushed his fingers inside of her. She arched her back in response, a sigh escaping her lips.

He continued to kiss down her body and lingered between her legs. She gripped the sheets, knotting them in her hands.

He began kissing her thighs as he continued to move his fingers, he was doing something ingenious with his thumb. As she approached her moment, he sensed it and suddenly he buried his vampire teeth into the flesh of her thigh. She cried out, gripping his shoulder as the pleasure and pain rolled into one. She jerked and jolted as he supped on her, taking just enough blood to make her pleasure even headier.

It had _never_ been like this before with him. Never.

She reached down and pushed off his Calvins as quickly as she could. She wanted him inside of her. She closed her eyes and let the intoxicating cocktail of sex, champagne and drugs do their work. He moved slowly - deliberately, he was tormenting her. She swapped their places, so that she could take control. She ran her hands over every plain of body as if she was discovering him for the first time. And maybe she was, of a kind.

She reached forwards and gripped the bedstead with both hands increasing her pace and forcing him to keep up. He kissed the bits of her he could reach and let his hands wander down her back and rest on her behind. She cried out and he came too, never once looking away from her eyes. But what she saw there surprised her; mixed with the pleasure, was incredible pain.

She fell onto her side and he brushed the hair out of her face.

"He will never love you like I will." He said. "Elena, please be mine."


	4. Black and White

**Wow, my last chapter sure seemed to put the cat amongst the pigeons!**

**Anyway, thanks again for all your ideas, comments and reviews. I hope you enjoy this resolution, because it has been the hardest thing to write! I hope you think it was worth it.**

**I haven't closed the story because there is a tiny short epilogue afterwards, which shuts this story down for real.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and please do let me know what you think. **

**Letting the Light in**

**Chapter 4: Black and White**

She went to the Falls. If you picked the right time of day, you could even avoid the dog walkers and the couples who used it as a make-out site.

She chose to sit on an old, graffitied wooden bench with two broken slats, which overlooked the river at its lowest point. She liked it here because if the wind changed you could feel the water on your face. It was inspiring too, because after the tumultuous rapids, the water flowed tranquilly away - something she wanted emulate in her own life.

She tried to concentrate; she thought about Katherine, her parents, Tyler, Caroline, Matt, Alaric and Jenna and all the other difficult and troubling things that would help her get some sense of perspective. But they couldn't help her. There was no avoiding what she came here for. She was here to consider the two men who loved her and where that would take her, because right now she felt adrift. She wanted some control back.

The school councilor had been willing to give her a day off when she told him it was the anniversary of her parent's death. He was doubtful at first, but when she burst into tears it was astounding how quickly he had scurried to sign her absence slip. She wondered how long it would take him to actually open her file and uncover the lie. She felt pretty sick about it actually, using her parents like that - but she couldn't think of another way to get the time she needed and desperate times called for desperate measures. Eventually she'd face the music, but right now she needed time and space. She just couldn't think with the buzz of life going on around her.

* * *

Despite the summer sunshine it was cool here under the canopy of the trees. She put her hands in the pockets of her coat to keep them warm, knowing what she would find there. She pulled the book out now and looked at it for the hundredth time. She examined the worn, fading pages and cracked spine. As she opened it, the little yellow leaf she had placed there blew into her lap. She caught it quickly and ran her fingers over it, caressing it as though it was a piece of sumptuous velvet fabric and not a brittle, dying, thing.

She held the leaf by its stem, raised her hand and wondered about letting the breeze take it. She would watch it fly into the water and it would make its merry way in the world. Maybe it would even find its way to him…

But it had become a symbol to her; something she couldn't bring herself to part with it. She tucked it back in the safety of the book.

* * *

Like everybody who was faced with a big decision, she had tried to palm it off onto someone else. It had been a selfish action, but she had been sick of being miserable and alone with this choice.

It had to be a member of her family, because who else would forgive her actions even if they were angry with her? She couldn't speak to Jenna, she didn't know enough of the truth. Which left only one option.

He had walked into her room with a half-hearted, "Wassup?"

She had looked at Jeremy and couldn't believe how much a matter of a few months had changed him. He was fit, happy, relaxed and totally freed by his relationship with Bonnie. Only months before it had been she who had been the happy one and he who was being brought low by a destructive relationship. How fast their lives had changed.

"Hi, Jer." She had begun.

"What is it, sis? I haven't got all day."

He had stood in the doorway, tossing a mini football in his hands, spinning it on his finger and doing little underarm passes. Ok, if speed was what he wanted, then that was what she would give him.

"I just wanted to get your opinion on something."

"Shoot."

"Recently I found out that not only does Damon love me, but that I love him back; we spent this amazing night together, then he told me to return to Stefan, but I missed him horribly when I did, then Stefan told me he had found out about Damon and I, and although he knew we were in love, he wasn't able to let me go, then he told me I needed to make a decision and choose between them, but I can't, so what should I do...?"

The ball had dropped on the floor and tumbled to her feet.

"Holy fuck, Elena." Jer was not big on cursing, but this seemed a fair enough time to make an exception.

"What has gotten into you? Damon doesn't love you; he is just messing with your head because he's like that. He just wants to get to Stefan. Elena, he _killed_ me. Or have you forgotten that? I mean, Jesus, Elena." He looked at her with disgust. "I don't know you any more."

It was his parting shot before he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Her pictures had rattled violently in their frames.

_That went well._ She had thought.

* * *

Sat now in the dappled sunshine she thought about what Jer had said. He was angry with her, but actually when she thought about it, didn't he have a right to influence her decision? After all, if it weren't for her father's ring, she would be beside herself with grief right now.

He was wrong about Damon's motives, she was certain of that, but would he be ever able to accept Damon fully? Right now, there was an uneasy truce between them. They coexisted fairly comfortably, but would it be different if she were actually in a relationship with the vampire who would have seen him dead?

She loved Jer, deeply, of course she did. In fact she wanted nothing but happiness for him and hadn't Damon helped her when she needed to secure that happiness, by taking away Jer's memory of how Vicky had died? He had done that, but was it done to impress her, or from a genuine desire to make amends? She'd never really know.

When she thought of the event itself, she felt sick to her stomach. She would never be able to erase the sight (or sound) of Jer's neck snapping. She couldn't forget the lurch of grief, nor the hatred that had burned in her heart afterwards for the perpetrator.

When she stepped back from her emotions, she could logically see what had led up to that moment. It was difficult, painful even, to see things from his side, but she forced herself to go back over it piece-by-piece and try to understand. Damon loved her and she had kissed him – only it wasn't her, it was Katherine; but when he confronted her with the feelings that she had buried deep inside herself, she had dismissed and humiliated him.

No. It was still unforgivable. Maybe only time could heal that wrong. She hoped so, for it stood like a gaping chasm between them.

If she was being honest, she was also afraid. Some times he frightened her. When he had been humiliated, upset and angry, his first response had been to kill someone. His _first _response! It was just an excuse to say that it was 'the vampire in him' because she knew that other vampires (including Stefan) had learnt to control their natural impulses, so it was the person _behind_ the vampire that worried her. Who was he? What if they fought? Every couple knew what to say to get on the other's nerves. She knew that they would fight at sometime or another. What would his first response be then? Would he kill someone else? Maybe it would be Jenna next time… or maybe even her.

It was so unfair. She had no answers, just questions.

This train of thought was depressing her too much, so she let herself think about the good side too. For one thing, he had shown her time and time again that he acted from a position of love. She had already reappraised every look, every action, once she had found out how he felt about her. She didn't have many past relationships to go on, but instinct rather than experience told her that what he felt for her was the real thing, and more than just some passing lust that would fade with time. And as for her feelings for him, it was simple: when she was with him, she felt alive. She shuddered with the want for his touch even now. She couldn't put that to one side.

She thought about Stefan. Stefan, who made her happy. Stefan who had friends and knew normality. Stefan who was grounded and stable. He wasn't perfect, he had a temper and was often moody, but he loved her so much. He would do anything for her and she knew that he would even give up his life for her. Boy had she had complicated things by sleeping with him again. Why had she done that? She was an idiot! She knew that she needed time away from him and yet she had let herself be seduced. She couldn't blame him, he merely wanted her to see what they could have together - but it wasn't exactly fair of him either. But then, why should he fight fair? She hadn't after all. And what they had together was special. It really was and maybe that was worth fighting for. He was more than her lover, he was her best friend. Could she lose that? Did she want to?

In conclusion, she was miserable, but things couldn't drag on any more. It was time to make a decision.

* * *

"No more big gestures. No gifts, flowers, or anything. She's adamant, Stefan. She doesn't want to see you right now." Jenna took a deep breath, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "_Look, I don't know what's going on between you two. But you're crowding the girl; just give her some space. I know my niece, she'll come to her senses."_

Elena's back was pressed against her bedroom door, her heart beating fast. She listened to every word. She felt that any minute now he would barge past Jenna and come up the stairs. There seemed to be a long pause whilst he considered what to do, then finally, she heard the sound of the door shutting.

Jenna called up the stairs.

"He's gone, Elena. But seriously, you are going to have to speak to him soon because I can't be in the middle of all this. I have my own stuff going on…"

"Thanks Jenna." It was the least she could say. She was truly grateful for her help. She had to put her house in order and that meant dealing with one problem at a time. She would speak to Stefan soon, but first she had something else to do.

_

* * *

__ Damon_

_ Before he died, my father taught me that if anything was worth saying, then it deserved to be put into black and white. He taught me that a letter was a time to say all the things you wanted to but struggled to say aloud. Damon, this is the single most important letter I have ever written ~ because this letter is to you._

She paused, the fountain pen in her hand felt solid and unfamiliar, it left a groove in her forefinger and she had already blotched herself with ink. But she loved the weight of it; somehow she sensed the mere act of the calligraphy helped her find her voice.

The paper came from Smythson of Bond Street, an expensive corporate gift given to her father that she had kept after his death. The box it came in opened much like a Chinese puzzle; loops of grosgrain ribbon opened individual drawers containing paper and envelopes of varying sizes. Each sheet of paper was as thick as an eyelash and individually watermarked with a royal crest. In short, it raised her writing to its standards. She only drew a sheet for the most important things.

She wasn't sure how to continue. She wanted to say what was in her heart, not something which sounded rehearsed. She closed her eyes a moment and thought of him and then the words came easily.

_ I love you. It is as simple ~ and as complicated ~ as that. I didn't mean for it to happen, it wasn't planned. All I know is that one day a single flame became a wild fire._

_ There is no going back even if I wanted to. I confess it would be easier not to have these feelings, to bottle them up and deny their existence. I could live my life as if sleepwalking and perhaps the world would be better for it ~ except for one reason and one reason only. My only certainty in all this confusion is that you love me too._

_ Damon, if it only were as simple as that, then we would be together right now. But it is not. It is so far from easy, or even what is right. Our love comes at a cost and it is a bitter one…_

_ Stefan, my dear Stefan._

_ He loves me too, with all his heart. I owe him so much, for keeping me safe, for bringing me back to life in so many ways. He has been my companion, my lover, my heartbeat. I owe him my life, not my betrayal. To him, your love is a poison that has come between us. He is hurt beyond reckoning, beyond reason._

_ If his kindness, his love, weren't so generous, or I could fault him on his treatment of me, then things would be different. But I cannot; I will not find fault where there is none. His only flaw was putting his trust in me. I have been faithless and dishonest to someone that deserves neither and I am ashamed and sorry for it. I should have spared him that when I know I have his heart in my hands._

_ Then there is one other too ~ one whose life is dear to me beyond the blood we share. My brother, Jeremy._

_ You killed him Damon. You broke his neck and you made me the reason. You made me complicit for hurting the one person who has been my constant friend in life. I find that I cannot and should not forgive this. Jeremy deserved more from me and I let him down. He is my anchor in this life and you would have taken him from me. What you did, was so, so very wrong._

_ So I am stuck; my indecision eating at me like a cancer. I love you, but will you, as Stefan warns, turn my life to darkness?_

_ One thing I do know is that you kill on a whim; so I have to ask, have you have forgotten the value of life? I look from Stefan, to you and it is here where you differ. He is the man first, vampire second ~ I look into my heart and I truly do not know if I can say this of you. So to love you… to be with you? I cannot love only part of you, just as I would not expect you to love only part of me. You are an ancient force, Unpredictable, unknowable, a predator ~ equipped in every way to kill. Can I accept you for what you are?_

_ If I were with you, I would live every day in fear of the things I would say in case you would turn, not on me, but on the innocent bystanders of our relationship. I cannot say this wouldn't happen, for it already has. Do either of us want this?_

_ And yet, when I am parted from you, I find it as hard to breathe as if you were the very lungs with which I draw the air. I think about your touch, your kiss and I disintegrate._

_ Damon, our love could never be unconditional, because you yourself have shown that this could never be. It comes with messy threads, from which many lives unravel._

_ What we do now has consequences. But I need to tell you this truth because it eats away at me every day…_

_ I love you_

_ I love you_

_ I love you_

_ And my heart aches for you._

_ So I am asking you. Do we take the hard road together? Is our love worth that?_

_ Elena_

As she signed her name to the letter, she knew this was it, the contract of their being together with all the clauses and conditions laid out as clear as she knew how.

She folded the paper carefully in half, ran her finger over the spine to press it down, slipped it into the envelope, wrote the address and put the stamp on. She held it to her lips, wishing it Godspeed and hoping that it would bring him to respond to her when nothing else had.

* * *

She had had her aunt turn him away at the door.

He couldn't believe it, didn't want to. After their weekend together, he thought everything was back on track. I mean, her blood was still pulsing, rushing even, through his veins! Not just any blood, the blood from her moment of desire. He felt on fire.

But perhaps her passion hadn't been about him. Perhaps, he had been a fool.

The thought of that turned him inside out.

He felt rage build up inside of him. He wanted to destroy something, to render it useless and as ugly as he felt.

He turned his car towards route twelve, to the address he had stolen from her purse.

* * *

"Are you sure I can't persuade you, Mr Salvatore? As your realtor, I feel it is my duty to tell you that the market has improved for top-spec houses such as this and if you were to put it on the market, I could guarantee you a profit percentage that…" She saw him smile, but he was shaking his head. She stopped talking; there was little point in continuing, as her client was having none of it. "Well, then," she said, returning his smile with one of her own, "I shall say no more about it. We will sign the paperwork and then the house will be entirely yours again. No rental, no sale, just 'home'."

She took a sip of her wine, it was excellent quality and made a nice change from the endless cups of coffee she was offered throughout her day.

"I can only apologize once again for the delay coming back to you with these contracts. I have been out of the country for the past three weeks, I hope my assistant let you know."

"Not a problem. It has given me a chance to do some work on the place anyway."

"Oh?" she said, her interest aroused, "I haven't spotted any obvious changes."

He shouldn't have brought it up, but as he had, he felt a duty to share it with her now. She had that realtor's natural curiosity for home improvements. He asked her to follow him and he took her into his study. She stood by the window, sipping her wine and looking out across the grounds at his handiwork.

"My goodness," she commented, "you have indeed been busy. It is quite a beautiful addition to the house." She turned and smiled. "I have to say, Mr Salvatore, you don't strike me as someone with green fingers, but I can see now that I have underestimated you. Such a shame I can't persuade you to sell, as a rose garden on a property like this…. Well." She shrugged.

"Hmm." Was all he added and he turned from the room. He wanted to get her out of there. Ever since that weekend, he had felt this study was out of bounds – sacred somehow. He led her back to living room.

* * *

As she pulled the paperwork out of her neat attaché case, she spoke about property in the area and what she was working on. He couldn't help it, but he stopped listening to her and examined her face, trying to detect in her the lines of her heritage. She was a nice girl; professional, a little stiff perhaps - a little over made-up. But she smiled readily and was good at her job. Physically though, there was no resemblance to the one who he had been looking for, which actually forced a pang of longing through him.

Why had he shown her the garden? It was an idiot move. The garden was for one person and one person only. He doubted if she would ever see it, but it hadn't stopped him creating it almost obsessively over the last few weeks. He had even cleared the forest of a couple of the taller trees, so you could just about see the lake in the distance if you knew what you were looking for (and the weather was good). He had turned his sofa too so it faced the window. The flowers were in bloom, the trees were in full leaf and all was ready… Ready to share with someone he didn't even have the right to ask to share it with him.

"Mr Salvatore?" She was asking. "Mr Salvatore?"

She was offering him a pen with a look on her face suggesting she had been saying 'Mr Salvatore' for some time. He tried to shake off the unhappy feeling and return to the task at hand. He was about to sign where she indicated, when he heard the screech of tires as a car turned off the main road at speed and pulled into his drive. She heard it too by the time it reached the gravel.

They heard heavy footsteps which took his porch stairs three at a time. Before they had time to register what was happening – the door was torn off its hinges.

* * *

The girl began screaming as soon as the door hit the ground. Damon would have to compel her later, but right now he had to protect them both. He turned immediately, putting himself between her and the door, his body taught and defensive. Stefan flew into the room, teeth protracted, a tire iron in his hand and a wrath upon him that no living being had ever witnessed.

The girl saw the two vampires in the room and screamed louder. She made a foolish decision from blind panic and tried to run for the door. With a vicious backhanded slap, Stefan sent her spiraling into the air and she came to a sudden stop against Damon's plate glass window. The sound of the impact reverberated around the room.

Like a swatted fly, her twitching corpse slid to the ground.

Damon launched himself at Stefan, but the damage was done.

He realized as their blows rained down upon each other, that this was it now. This is how they dealt with each other – words no longer did the trick. If Stefan were pissed he would damage him without a second thought and visa-versa. Their bodies were just pin-cushions for any sharp object they cared to toss at each other. Any and all arguments were solved this way. But somehow, today was different. When Stefan smashed the tire iron into his body, he did it with brute force, a real malevolence in his eyes as he plunged it all the way in. This was personal. This was hurt on a new level.

Damon was vulnerable and he knew it. The iron hurt like hell and it slowed him down.

Stefan took half a wooden chair leg they had broken whilst thrashing about and he plunged it into Damon's stomach with a cry that came from deep inside of him. The iron Damon could handle, but the wood was truly damaging. Three inches higher and he would have been dead. He fell to his knees. Pulling out the wood had to be his priority, but the iron weakened him too. When he tried to focus on what to do, he realized he couldn't.

Stefan was yelling, shouting at him and shouting into the air; the words were a meaningless babble of incoherent rage. Damon tried to grasp the stake, but his hands were slipping. He was falling down, down into blackness. He hit the ground.

Stefan had a second stake in his hand and he was pacing furiously in front of his brother, back and forth, back and forth, as if he was deciding what to do. He was like a man possessed.

Damon felt his consciousness slipping. He saw the foot of the girl sticking out at right angles from behind his sofa. Maybe that would be the last thing he would see before his brother finished the job.

He'd never see Elena again. Maybe that is what he deserved.

He tried to be at peace with this, but he didn't want it to end this way. He struggled to keep his eyes open. But the effect of the wood bit into him and his eyelids drooped down.

* * *

Stefan felt like he had a hangover; his head was foggy and he had that deep-down terrible, terrible, feeling that he had done something wrong. A feeling he knew he deserved.

He forced himself to look at what he had done. And there he was, just as he had left him - face down on the floor. Stefan closed his eyes and swallowed.

Slowly he stood up. It was odd because he couldn't remember the point where he had even sat down. Damn, when would he be rid of her blood; when would it work through his system? He could still feel the charge running through his body.

He went over to Damon, but was wary - he did not lean down. When there was no movement still, so he spoke.

"Get up." He demanded.

"What for?" Damon said after a while. "So you can knock me down again?"

It took all the will-power he had to move at last, but he managed to pull himself into a seated position with slow and obvious discomfort. He began to pull the stake from his body inch-by-painful-inch. The tire-iron was still lodged deep into his rib cage. Stefan looked away.

"So, brother," Damon continued, "you finally stepped up."

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Stefan went and sat down again. Behind him, he knew there was the body of the girl. A trail of her blood was inching towards his foot. He moved it one inch to the left.

"I've just had this place redecorated. You are so paying for the clean-up." Damon said.

He yelped as the final prongs of the tire-iron left his skin and he tossed it clattering to the ground. Pressing his hand against the gaping wound he felt it slowly knit together as it should. He was bruised, but that too would eventually pass. He looked over to Stefan, who was still clearly in a dangerous mood. He actually felt sorry for him, which was new.

"So what now, little brother? It take it its going to be an awkward Thanksgiving this year."

Stefan snapped his head up like he was going to retort, but he decided not to. Instead he got up and went and picked up the body of the girl by her armpits. She came unstuck from her own blood with a sticky, cloying sound. He began to drag her towards through the house; her heals leaving behind a blood trail as he did so. Damon protested at this, trying to move so he could help, but he felt too weak to do so just yet.

"Not on the parquet floor!" He grumbled over his shoulder, but he was ignored.

* * *

Stefan dragged the girl out the back door and into the garden. He dropped her unceremoniously on the grass, where she lay arm twisted beneath her, legs awkwardly crossed, the same shocked expression on her face as when she died.

He walked over to the spade that was sticking out of one of the newly made flowerbeds and he began to dig up the roses planted there. Damon had limped outside just in time to witness this makeshift burial.

"Jesus, I have just had all those planted…. Can you not?" He said. Actually, he had done the work himself, but it made him seem weak somehow and he was damned if he was going to share that. Anyway, the point was the same.

Stefan silenced him with a stare and continued to throw rose bushes into a pile. He began to dig into the existing trench.

"Fine." Damon muttered.

He went back into the house. If he didn't do something about that blood now, there would be hell to pay later. Besides, the smell of it was actually making him feel sick.

* * *

The girl was buried and the blood mostly cleaned away. They sat in his living room together in miserable, exhausted silence.

Damon ran a hand through his hair and stretched his back, his newly mended rib-cage sore on every rib. Damn, Stefan had come at him hard.

He looked at his brother now. Once they had been friends. He remembered the house they had shared, the laughter of their mother as they had performed their silly little plays for her. He was the dragon slayer, Stefan the dragon who always went down fighting. Just when everybody thought he had been slain, Stefan would smack Damon around the back of the knees with his papier-mâché tail and the two of them would roll around on the floor until somebody split them up. It had always been that way.

He wanted that back, that camaraderie. He had forgotten how it felt, but since he had come back to Mystic, it had been there despite all that had happened between them. He had really tried to hurt Stefan at first, his provocation had been cruel and calculated, but still when all was said and done, Stefan came to him first when he needed help.

He had even apologized for turning him in the first place, which he hadn't expected. Nonetheless, that had been the right thing to do. After all, it was an unnatural death and an unnatural life that had followed. They had suffered over a century of being drawn together and repelled again, like magnets constantly being flipped.

What surprised him now, was that he released he didn't blame him any more. Yes, the loss of his humanity he would never forgive, but had he been in the same position facing the same choice, would he have walked this life alone? No. Probably not. Stefan had turned to his big brother, like he always did and maybe he would have turned to him too.

But today, today was different. Just when he understood what they had, maybe he had really destroyed it this time. He hated the black and hollow feeling that left in his heart.

"Stefan, I never meant for it to happen," he explained, "but I love her. I really do."

Stefan looked at him, anger and hurt in his eyes, but said nothing. Damon looked at his feet. He didn't know how to say it, but he needed him. He didn't want this for either of them. A woman had come between them again and they seemed doomed to repeat this path of death and destruction. What was wrong with them? Why couldn't they find this world big enough to lead their own lives without getting stuck in the quagmire of each other's relationships?

He knew they had been alive too long; he knew Stefan's thoughts before he thought them… it was a unique experience, he realized, to hate himself through his brother's eyes.

My God, could they go through this again? Perhaps it would be better if they were both dead. He knew Stefan would have considered that too. But they both knew that their survival instinct was even stronger than their instinct to kill. He fiddled with the ring at his finger.

What he really wanted was forgiveness, but he didn't deserve it, or care to ask for it. He had no right.

Instead he looked at his window, which was cracked from ceiling to floor, a blood stain in the centre of the impact point that spiraled into a myriad of cracks. Stefan would have to live with the fact that he had killed the girl.

"She was Elena's cousin, you know." He said matter-of-factly. Stefan looked repulsed, but said nothing. Damon realized what he thought. "I wasn't fucking her. She was my realtor." He added angrily.

He got up. Now he was pissed. Mad at this mess, mad because he had no answers, mad because he had only just realized that he loved Stefan and he didn't want any of this.

He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the damage, whilst Stefan hung his head. The irony of this whole day had been that in one more minute the paperwork would have been signed and the house would have been his. Stefan would have had to prowl outside, unable to get in without an invitation. But life wasn't that simple and whilst the house was available to rent, anyone could cross the threshold.

Suddenly there was a sound that filled the room, a bitter, guttural, almost painful sound, like the noise made by a trapped animal. It took Damon a moment to realize that it was coming from Stefan.

He went over to him. His brother was shaking; they couldn't cry tears, but his body was contorted with emotion. It was something akin to keening.

Slowly, uncertainly, Damon put a hand out and hovered it above his brother's back. He wanted to rest it there, make contact, but he dared not.

Suddenly Stefan was on his feet: Damon took a half step back, unsure what would happen next, but then Stefan's head drooped and the anger and blood-lust and the will to fight all seemed to drain away. This broken, injured creature was just his baby brother again – like he used to be. This was something he never knew he needed, never wanted and yet here it was. Family. Without thinking, he stepped in towards Stefan and pulled his brother into his arms.

They held to each other, Damon's closed fist resting on his brother's back. The shock of being needed, of proximity, of love…

Stefan: brother, friend, enemy, rival.

Suddenly Stefan tore himself free, as if the rage he had come here with had built again inside him. He swung his right fist and connected it hard with Damon's jaw, cracking it in two places and throwing Damon off his feet. And with that, he was gone… No sooner had there been calm, then there was a storm.

Damon clicked his jaw with his hand as it healed.

Things were messed up before, but they were worse now.

* * *

The weather was so humid that she felt the sweat prickle on the back her neck. She was working at her computer, but she stopped now to fan herself as even her fully open window wasn't helping to circulate the air. She refused to turn on her air conditioning, she didn't like the way it dried out your throat.

It came as no surprise when lightning forked through the sky.

Like all summer storms, the rain began suddenly and became heavy, fast. She got up to close her window before it began to bang against the rails of her balcony. Her curtains were already blowing outside into the rain and so she reached out to pull them back in. It was then that she saw him. She fell back with a start, her hand gripped to her heart.

Damon.

She looked at him; rain dripping down his face, his dark shirt stuck to the contours of his chest. Here, in front of her at last, the answer to more than just her letter. As a thunderclap roared its protest, she examined his eyes… they flecked with something dangerous, something lonely, something longing.

She ran forwards into the rain and he jumped down off the balcony rail to meet her. She flung her arms around him and he let himself be held. He rested his hand lightly on the back of her head and breathed in the scent he had begun to think he had only dreamed of. The wind clattered her windows in their frames and the rain soaked them both to their skin, but they stood like that for minutes. Nothing else mattered.

He waited until her heartbeat slowed down to something approaching normal, then walked her inside. They sat on the end of her bed. She was surprised when he didn't make a move to kiss or touch her.

"Elena, listen to me." He began. "I need to tell you something."

Her face fell, but he didn't believe in cushioning the blow. People like Elena, people who understood death, didn't want to be mollycoddled. "It's your cousin. She's dead." She looked at him askew. She bit down her first reaction and waited for him to explain, because there had to be some sort of explanation, didn't there?

He ran a hand through his dripping hair.

"It was an accident."

"What happened, Damon? Tell me."

"Stefan found the house and we – talked." He said, leaving out one or two of the tiny details.

"Stefan? How did he know how to find you?" She was hysterical with worry.

"I don't know, but he did. Anyway, it's not important. What is, is that Laura was there. She was bringing me the house contracts to sign so I could stop the rental." He sighed. "I'm sorry Elena, but her neck was broken."

Elena got up and began to move backwards away from him, tears in her eyes. "What do you mean, her neck was broken? A person's neck doesn't just break Damon!"

He looked down, took a deep breath and did what he came here for.

"I didn't mean to, but I killed her."

There was a silence. Then her legs buckled and she crumpled to the floor.

* * *

When she came to, she was no longer in her room. It took her a few seconds to realize that somehow she was in the Salvatore boarding house, lying on Stefan's bed. When she looked up, she noticed he was there with her, pacing the room like a caged animal. He looked frantic.

"Stefan, how did I get here?" She asked as she sat up. She was cold, damp, confused and angry and wanted nothing more than an end to all this, but it seemed as if there was more to this day yet. She swung her legs over the side of his bed.

"Elena, thank God you are ok. You were out cold. I don't know how you got here. I just walked into my room and you were here on my bed."

She closed her eyes for a second and opened them again. No, the nightmare was real and she was at the centre of it. She got up shakily and looked at Stefan, who came over to her and gripped her by her sagging shoulders. He was desperate for her to look him in the eyes, but for some reason she couldn't meet them.

"I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt her. Elena I never meant to – you have to understand that."

"What?" She said fuzzily. She heard the words, but she didn't understand them. "Hurt who? Who have you hurt, Stefan?"

"We were wrong about the blood, Elena, I couldn't control it. I'll never be able to. I'm so, so sorry."

The fog was beginning to clear, finally she got it. Her cousin was dead and her boyfriend was responsible, not Damon. He had lied. But why? Why would he do such a thing?

She put her hand over her mouth, afraid that the bile she tasted there would worsen. Her eyes betrayed her disgust with Stefan and her stomach lurched. The feeling of faintness passed over her again, but she refused to let it overwhelm her. Suddenly she understood what this was all about and she was furious, furious with them both. Damon had taken the blame for the death, so that she and Stefan could be together. It was all so wrong. Where was her choice in all of this? Didn't she get a say in anything?

"Elena! I couldn't help it. It was the blood! It was an accident; I never meant to hurt her. She just got in the way and I - I…." He moved towards her again, but she staggered backwards. "I'm so, so sorry." He repeated.

"I can't… I can't talk to you right now." She stammered and she backed towards the door. When she felt the bump of it behind her, she turned and scrambled for the handle. He reached out to stop her, but she threw him off. "Let me go!"

"Elena! You can't leave like this! Elena." She ran down the stairs, but he caught up with her at the bottom of them and spun her to face him. He squeezed both her arms.

"Elena, talk to me! Please don't leave, not like this. I need to explain. I'll do anything, anything to make it up to you, to her family. Tell me, tell me what I should do." With each word he could feel her drawing away from him. She was shaking her head, her body was trembling.

She took a deep breath and a strange kind of calm came over her. It was as if for one second she had stepped into the eye of the storm and all was tranquil. She suddenly realized what she had to say. This wasn't about her cousin; this was the moment of her decision. Her last chance.

"Stefan, I'm so sorry this happened. I truly am. But I want you to know that when I walk out this door it's not because of Laura, it's because of me. I'm sorry Stefan, but its over. I'll always love you, but not in the way that you love me."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how true they were. He shook his head and pulled her into his body, clamping his arms around her like he would never let her go. She rested there limply against him, wet hair drawn across her face, her damp clothes on her body, feeling the pain of their parting.

"No don't say that. What can I do? Tell me what to do and I will do it." His voice was breaking. "Don't leave me, Elena. Please don't go."

"I'm sorry Stefan," she stepped back, taking both of his hands in her own, she gave them a gentle squeeze, "I am leaving you..." she let him go and his hands dropped like they were made of lead, "…and you have to let me go."

She turned around and walked to the door. He didn't try to stop her.

She stepped outside into the rain and didn't look back.

* * *

She was sick of waiting, sick of this feeling of guilt and denial. Now she had to add anger and grief to the list too. She was distraught at the death of her beautiful cousin, but she couldn't change what had happened any more than she could understand what Stefan had done, or even feel regret at her own part in it. In time she would undoubtedly do all these things, but right now she had to put herself first. If there was one thing she had learnt, was that there was plenty of time to grieve, but so very little time to live. She couldn't turn back the clock, no matter how much she wanted to.

She had to reach Damon, before he did something rash.

* * *

It was dusk when Damon entered his home. He felt sick to his stomach, but he knew he had done the right thing. He had no plan as such, just the knowledge that in the morning he would shut up the house and leave the country. He would go very far away and drink himself into oblivion until the hollowness in his heart began to fade. If it ever did.

He sat on his bed and peeled his shoes and socks off and let his feet rest on the cool wooden floor. He took off his damp shirt and dumped it onto the pile. It was hard to organize his thoughts, he felt he was shutting down, closing off, putting himself on standby. Even the simple things felt too difficult to face.

He turned his thoughts to Elena. She would wake up and Stefan would be there, just as was right. And him taking the blame for the death of Laura, meant there would be no obstacles for his brother and her to be together; she could love Stefan freely and hate him instead, as it should be, as was right. He put the natural order back into things, a last gift to them both.

But if it was right, then why did he feel so numb?

He walked up to his bedroom window and looked outside to his garden in the rain. He put both his hands on the heavy window latch and unlocked it, sliding the window open all the way along the whole length of his room, so that the cool, damp, weather spilled into it. He stepped outside and savored the sensation of the wet grass between his toes and the rain on his face. He closed his eyes and pushed his chin up to the chaotic sky and let the rain pour down on him.

After a while he looked down and saw the pile of abandoned rose bushes which Stefan had dumped on the floor. The pretty blooms were becoming speckled with mud. Damon walked towards them and lifted one up. The thorns bit into his fingers, but in each of the blossoms he found her spirit. He went and found the spade, lifted it and began to dug a hole. The body had been buried deep, so he knew he wouldn't disturb it. He planted the rose back where it belonged and once he had done the first one, he went back to get another.

He wanted this feeling. There was nothing but the hard edge of the blade beneath his foot, the rain pouring over his back, the soil and the scratches and the sheer labor of it. He knew he must look like a madman, stained by mud and barefoot in the rain and dark, but the wet soil and the prick of the rose bushes were the only feelings he had right now. All he wanted to feel, anyway.

* * *

She pulled into his driveway, desperate to find him. His car was there, so she had some hope, but she was distraught that the house was dark. Maybe she was too late after all?

When she ran up the steps she saw that the door she thought was merely closed, was in fact propped up, as its hinges were broken. There had been fighting here. Her sense of worry increased tenfold.

"Damon!" she called out into the dark as she slipped inside. "Damon, Damon! Where are you?"

She ran into the house and saw the destruction, she gasped when she saw the blood on the window pane. She ran from room to room, searching everywhere, calling out his name.

As she moved into the back corridor and could feel the cold air coming from his bedroom, so she opened the door and stepped inside. The back window was wide open and the rain was blowing into the house. More worryingly, his clothes were in a heap on the floor – but he was nowhere to be found. Her heart lurched.

"Damon! Damon! Where are you?"

She dropped her keys on the ground and ran straight through the window and outside, into the rain.

He heard her cry then, but could not comprehend it. Was it real? Could she really be here?

"Damon!" She called, her voice breaking from relief when she found him. He was barefoot and almost naked, barely recognizable from the mud that stained his body, he didn't seem to notice the rain that battered his body.

She ran towards him and when he realized she was real and not some figment of his fevered imagination, he dropped his spade and began to run too. He had barely taken three steps when she had leapt into his arms, legs wrapped tightly around him and she was kissing him - kissing him at last.

He carried her back into the house and pulled the window closed without stopping to put her down. Now they were inside, he laid her on the bed and he stopped to look at her, pushing her wet and muddy hair from her face. Even in this state, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered.

"You're here." he whispered, as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. She nodded.

"How could you do it Damon, how could you leave me there, when you knew it was you I loved? And why did you say you did that terrible thing?" She asked, even though she knew the answer.

"I wanted you both to be happy." He said, a tremble in his voice. "I wanted you to forget me."

"But it's you who makes me happy, Damon. Its over between Stefan and I. I just couldn't torture him any more."

He looked ashamed, saddened that what he knew was inevitable, had finally come to pass. He had broken his brother's heart.

"You asked me if our love worth this, Elena and I was scared, scared I couldn't be all the things you wanted me to be. But I see it clearly now, I could do anything for you. Face any hardship." He went to her then, put his hand on her waist and kissed her softly, with love, with tenderness.

"Don't you _ever_ leave me again." She begged and wrapped her arms around him.

"I won't, I won't…" he said and the rest was lost, as their words became kisses.

In the morning they would talk about what to do about Stefan, Jeremy and the body that lay to rest outside - but now it was time for the whispered words, sighs and the gentle touch of skin on skin.

At last, they could give each other their whole heart.


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Elena awoke to find the sun beaming brightly into their room, the touch of the heat on her skin and the sound of birdsong in her ears. The rain that had battered their window all night seemed to be a million miles away.

She wriggled out from under Damon's arm, trying not to wake him as she did so. She had to unpeel herself from the sheets, as both she and they, were utterly caked in mud. The room was is a sorry state too; there were puddles of water inside the window and dirty footprints everywhere.

She got out of the bed and stretched, her naked body glowing in the heat of the morning sun.

As she looked down, she felt bad about the mess. She followed his trail of footprints until she reached the window. When she looked up, she did not expect what she saw. She gasped. The garden was transformed!

She ran back towards the bed and retrieved her filthy, damp shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head. She ran to the window and pulled up the heavy latch. It was hard for her to move the door at all, but she managed to get it open just enough to slip outside.

She walked barefoot over the grass, into the space he had created and marveled at its beauty. The first thing that hit her, other than the glorious spectacle of color, was the scent of the flowers. Everything that grew here had been selected for its effect on the senses. She didn't know the names of very many of the plants, but she could spot flowering lavender, gardenias and those ones which she thought were frangipani. She leaned down and breathed each one in, letting their perfume beguile her.

"What are you doing out here?" He said. She turned to look at him, he was leaning in the gap of the door, one arm slung over his head, his legs casually crossed. He didn't have a stitch of clothing on and he looked like something the cat had dragged in. She couldn't help giggling. He pretended to take offense at that and ran over to her and lifted her bodily from the ground.

She shrieked and wriggled out from his arms, he let her escape and when she ran back inside the house, he jogged along behind. He found her in his shower, washing the mud from her hair and skin. He stepped in beside her, pushing his body against hers and encasing her with his arms. He laid a dozen kisses on her neck.

"Did you make the garden for me?" She asked him, her arms slipping around his waist. He gave her a slight smile, but said nothing. "It's beautiful, Damon. I love it."

They kissed as the water ran in rivulets down their bodies, washing away the mud, leaves, sweat and tears and so much more.

They were together at last and for now, that was all that mattered.


End file.
